I want to write words
To “Too Young to Go
Steady” and fill your mouth
With poetic relics thick
As peanut butter. A voice
Trapped in quicksand,
A saxophone of thoughts
All leading back to this one
Memory. I’ll fill your mind
With words of a lover you set out
To find only you won’t be able
To open your mouth for a kiss.
I’ll drown out the music, hold it
Underwater, as you try to swallow
And say clearly how you loved me
As we hid behind the sycamore tree
In the front of our school waiting
To catch the bus home.
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